DANTE
“Son-of-a—”
The body was slumped against the chair; a clean bullet hole pierced where his head used to be.
The putrid smell twisted my guts, forcing me to look away. I glared at the soldados in the room.
"Torture," I said sharply. “Not ending his misery."
One of them, Hector, spoke up. “It wasn't us, Boss. I swear it. We went out for a smoke and found him like this.”
“For how long?”
He glanced at the others. “Ten minutes maybe. Romanelli said we could take a break. He was still alive when we left, and when we came back...he was gone.”
My shoe caught an empty box, sending it sliding across the floor. Hector flinched as I shot my finger at him. “All of you went out? Because it looks to me that he didn't pick up a gun and did that to himself!”
The guy was still tied up.
“Imb
